


Tomarcus Tumblr Prompts

by peacefrog



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Day At The Beach, Demons, First Time, M/M, Pining, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-03-22 19:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13771371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/pseuds/peacefrog
Summary: A collection of prompt fills originally posted on tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com/post/171152437642/the-boys-plus-something-to-do-with-the-beach): The Boys™ plus something to do with the beach.

Tomas buries his toes deep into the warm sand. “At least take off your jacket,” he says.

“I’ll burn to a crisp,” says Marcus, smirking as he casts Tomas a sidelong glance.

Tomas tosses a tube of spf 50 into Marcus’ lap. Marcus squeezes a little onto the tips of his fingers and slathers it all over his face, then shucks off his dirty leather. “Boots, too,” says Tomas.

Marcus relents without protest, kicking off his boots and peeling off his socks, burying his toes alongside Tomas’. Tomas smiles and says, “We deserve this. A day in the sun.”

In his bright blue tank top, Tomas hops to his feet, snatches the tube of sunscreen and kneels down behind Marcus in the sand.

“What are you doing?”

“Just relax.”

Cold, then warm. So warm. Tomas’ fingers anoint him, smudging the scent of artificial coconut up under the straps of Marcus’ filthy tank top. Marcus shudders, buries his fingers into the sand as Tomas’ strong hands slather the back of his neck, the expanse of his shoulders, down the tops of his arms.

Marcus breathes in deep, shuts his eyes, and beyond the scent of the sunscreen the salt of the ocean fills his lungs. Tomas’ breath comes hot and quick on the back of Marcus’ neck. Has the tide come in to swallow them? He is adrift now and floating beyond the shore, out into the center of all things, disappearing into the place where the sky meets the earth.

Tomas pulls his hands away, says something Marcus doesn’t register, the words muffled by the crash of the ocean and the blood rushing in his ears.

“Marcus? Are you alright?”

The world comes lazily back into focus as Marcus blinks open his eyes. Tomas gazes down at him, the sun a glowing halo at his back. His lips move, but Marcus only catches a handful of words. He is reaching out his hand.

“Will you help me?”

Marcus squints. The whole world seems to be turning in slow motion, Tomas beaming and holy before him, the sight of him a benediction. Marcus reaches for his hand, but where he anticipates warm flesh he’s met instead with sun-warmed plastic.

“I—”

“Marcus?”

Marcus snatches the sunscreen and forces himself to look away, focusing his eyes down onto the sand between his parted thighs. He laughs. “Come on, then.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Tomas asks, turning his back and settling down between Marcus’ legs.

“M’fine.”

Tomas laughs softly. “Maybe the sun is too much for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take this off,” says Marcus, tugging at the fabric of Tomas’ tank top.

Tomas complies without so much as a single snide remark, balling up the shirt and tossing it down into the sand. Marcus wishes he’d brought his sketchpad, Tomas’ bare shoulders a temptation transformed into something beyond flesh there in the sun.

Tomas shoots Marcus a glance over his shoulder. “Marcus?”

Absently, Marcus squeezes the sunscreen into his hand, warms it between his palms. Slowly and with reverence, he presses his hands to Tomas’ back, is met with the steady ticking of Tomas’ heart. Tomas’ skin is fire, his shoulders rising under Marcus’ hands as he pulls the saltwater-air deep into his lungs.

“Marcus?”

“Sorry,” Marcus drawls, moving his hands over sun-warmed skin, the very act of this a new blessed sacrament. “Guess the sun’s gone to my head after all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com/post/171154395097/my-dear-if-youre-looking-for-ficlet-prompts-i-am): My dear if you're looking for ficlet prompts, I am always on the lookout for content in which Marcus is being threatened / unwillingly flirted with / creeped on and Tomas gets fucking p i s s e d. Especially if Marcus starts Feeling Things afterwards because nobody has even been p i s s e d on his behalf before.

It happens so quickly, Marcus can’t be entirely sure who swings first. There is the man with his fist closing around the collar of Marcus’ shirt. There is Tomas, shoving back this stranger who is easily twice his size. There are words exchanged—shouted—in english and in spanish. There is a slur, singular and spat into Tomas’ face, but intended only for Marcus.

There is blood, splashing across the front of Marcus’ face like holy water.

They’re tossed out onto the damp sidewalk and Tomas, impossibly, can’t stop laughing.

“You’re mental!” Marcus shouts as they amble away from the bar.

“Did you see his face?!” Tomas bumps into Marcus hard and slings an arm across his shoulders.

“I saw yours,” says Marcus, his lips pressed right up against Tomas’ ear, tasting blood. “You were like a mad dog.”

Tomas’ laugh shakes through both of their bodies. “He shouldn’t have put his hands on you,” he says, his feet grinding to a halt at the corner. Beneath a flickering lamp post Tomas pulls away, and Marcus gasps at the sight of him.

Marcus reaches a trembling hand out and tenderly cradles Tomas’ bloodied face. “I could’ve handled it,” is all he can think to say. Tomas’ right eye is swelling shut.

“He put his hands on you,” says Tomas, as though that’s the most logical explanation for why one might throw themselves into the fists of a man the size of a mountain.

Beneath his ribs, Marcus’ heart swells. “Let’s get you patched up,” he croaks, pulling Tomas tightly to his side.

When they arrive beneath the sodium lights and half-dead neon sign and collapsing metal-awning of their motel, Marcus fumbles with the key. Between them, something is growing, some invisible thing with tendrils latching warmly beneath the skin. Marcus ushers Tomas into the room, instructs him to sit on the bed while he goes out and fills the flimsy plastic bucket with ice. Back in the room, he dumps the ice into the yellowing hand towel from the bathroom and presses it gently to Tomas’ eye.

“Keep that there.”

“We’ve both taken much worse from demons.”

Marcus rummages through his bag for antiseptic and bandages and a long-expired bottle of pain pills. “I know,” he says absently, settling down next to Tomas on the bed. “Not really the point though, is it?”

“Would you rather I just walked away?”

“Yes,” says Marcus, immediately swallowed by his own guilt when he realizes he doesn’t mean it. “Hold still.”

Marcus moves the ice away from Tomas’ eye temporarily while he cleans the areas on his face that have been split open, taking extra care with the swollen mess of his bottom lip. When he’s finished, he pops two pain pills in Tomas’ palm, shoves a plastic cup of tap water into his hand, and glares at him until he swallows them down.

“Lie back,” says Marcus. “Don’t forget your ice.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” says Tomas, though he’s already sliding back onto the mattress and positioning himself on the pillows.

Marcus pulls Tomas shoes off and drops them to the floor with a thud. He frowns at the blood stains on his shirt but decides, for now, that part can wait. “Ice,” he says firmly, trying not to smile when Tomas rolls his eyes and reaches for the bundled up towel.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” says Tomas after Marcus has sat down on his own bed and begun kicking off his shoes.

Marcus smirks over at him. “Hypocrisy is a sin.”

After a long beat of silence, Tomas says, “I’d do it again. Fight for you. I just want you to know that.”

Marcus crosses the narrow space between their beds, perches on the edge of the mattress next to Tomas. “You’ll be a saint yet with that attitude.”

Tomas deposits his bundle of ice onto the bedside table and reaches for Marcus hand, gripping it tightly. “You’re my friend.”

Softly, Marcus pushes back the hair sticking to Tomas’ brow, his touch worshipful. “Get some rest,” he all but whispers, focusing his gaze on Tomas’ good eye. 

Their fingers linger on each other when Marcus begins to pull away. Marcus can feel Tomas’ gaze on him as he gets to his feet, turns his back, disappears into the bathroom.

Behind the closed door, Marcus turns both knobs on the sink and lets the water run. There in front of the dirty mirror his face twitches in a smile as he clasps his hands.

Quietly, he begins to pray. “Lord I come before You, desiring to provide thanks. Father, I have so much to be thankful for…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com/post/171176159787/a-first-kiss-or-even-better-a-first-fuck-that): a first kiss (or even better, a first fuck) that isn’t discussed beforehand. it just happens because it has to, after some intense and possibly horrible experience.

There’s blood on their hands—their own, each other’s—and at Tomas’ throat the notch of his collar is dripping red. By some miracle, they are still breathing. No fatal wounds, only the husk of an integrated demon lying at their feet in the middle of their motel room.

Tomas pulls Marcus into his arms, crushing him with the force of his relief. His breath comes in hot puffs at the crook of Marcus’ neck. By some miracle, they are still breathing. By some miracle, they are—

Tomas’ lips taste of his blood. They’re not kissing, and then suddenly they are, and the rush of it all pulls the air straight from Marcus’ lungs. Fingers tangling into hair and digging into flesh. By some miracle, they are crashing into each other. The gentle push-pull of the moon at the shore. The anything-but-gentle way Tomas shoves Marcus against the wall and sucks a bruise into the flesh of his throat.

There are no words, only breathing, and groans that might be agony or pleasure of both as they claw at each other. Tomas rips his collar off and tosses it to the floor. He loses three buttons when Marcus tears the shirt from his torso. Their top-halves bared, they paw at flesh, warm and wanting. The blood has dried on their hands.

Tomas tugs at the fly of Marcus’ pants, says, “Get these off,” as he works his own belt loose and whips it onto the floor. And then there is nothing between them, and they’re falling down onto the bed all tangled together, and Marcus is so hard that tears spring in his eyes and he wonders absently if anyone has ever died from such desire.

And then Tomas is rutting against Marcus’ hip, leaving a slick trail in his wake, and then he’s angling his hips just so, their cocks dragging together between the join of their bodies. Marcus cages Tomas in with his arms and legs, and together they move with an ease that is both gentle and frantic. Marcus moans into his open mouth when Tomas kisses him. The blood on his lips is gone, carried away by Marcus’ love.

Tomas comes with an anguished cry into Marcus’ mouth, and Marcus digs his fingers into the hair at Tomas’ nape and spills with him, crumbling, trembling, their bodies as one in the slick pulsing of their release.

And in the afterglow, Tomas laughs. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” says Marcus, dragging his fingers through Tomas’ hair. “It was me.”

Tomas laughs harder, then sighs. “We should probably do something about the dead body on the floor.”

“In a minute,” says Marcus, drawing Tomas nearer. “In a minute.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com/post/171206378762/what-about-the-first-time-tomas-crawls-into): what about the first time tomas crawls into marcus' bed when he sees he's having a nightmare

Tomas wakes with a start, shaken from dreams by a terrible sound. Ragged breathing fills the air, and with it the anguished whimper of nightmares. Tomas whispers Marcus’ name, but the nightmare rolls on.

Tomas swings his legs out of the bed and crosses the short space between them. “Marcus,” he says a little louder this time. On the bed, Marcus thrashes against the covers.

Tomas lays a hand on Marcus’ shoulder and says his name louder still, and Marcus wakes with a gasp, bolting upright and pulling air deep into his lungs.

“Marcus, Marcus,” Tomas whispers, crawling onto the bed, resting a hand over Marcus’ racing heart. “It’s alright. It was just a dream.”

“Fuck,” Marcus huffs, sighing with relief, tossing his head back onto his pillow.

“It’s okay. It’s alright.” Tomas curls up at Marcus’ side, soothing Marcus with the touch of his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Marcus spits. “I’ll be fine. You can go back to bed.”

“We both can. Shut up and turn over.”

Marcus sighs indignantly, but relents and rolls over onto his side, fitting himself back against the curve of Tomas’ body. Tomas slings an arm across Marcus’ middle and draws him near.

“Tell the things in your nightmares they’re going to have to answer to me now,” Tomas says against the back of Marcus’ neck, drawing a soft laugh from him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcus slips his hand up over Tomas’ and settles in. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Get some rest.”

Tomas presses a soft kiss to Marcus’ bare shoulder, and for a moment his breathing ceases. Tomas kisses him again and Marcus threads their fingers together beneath the covers. They breathe together in the dark, the curve of Tomas’ lips keeping nightmares at bay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com/post/170396390082/i-see-ppl-sometimes-giving-u-exorcist-prompts-so-i): i see ppl sometimes giving u exorcist prompts so i hope u dont mind me jumping on the band wagon, feel no pressure to actually fill it buuuuuuut theres nothing i need more than tomas having to confront the fact that he is attracted to marcus after seductive!demon marcus appears and does his thing

The demons have manifested as Marcus before, but never like this. Never like this. Tomas blinks and swallows hard, reminding himself this isn’t real. This isn’t Marcus.

But, God, he’s so warm.

“Whaddaya say, Tomas, hm?” The Demon wearing Marcus’ face—his body, his hands—backs Tomas up against the wall, and Tomas can’t even remember the question.

“You’re not Marcus,” he croaks, and his pulse quickens when Marcus—not Marcus, no, Tomas, it’s not him—curls a hand around his throat.

“I can give you what you want,” purrs the demon.

“I don’t want this. I don’t—” Tomas bunches the front of the demon’s shirt in his hands, pulling him nearer instead of pushing him away.

“You can’t lie to me, Tomas.” The demon presses warm, dry lips to his ear, whispering, “I’ve been inside you.”

Tomas’ toes curl inside his shoes. It would be so easy to slip his hands up the back of the demon’s shirt, feel its cheap imitation of Marcus’ skin. The want turns his stomach.

“I want to wake up,” Tomas cries weakly. “I want to wake up. I want to wake up!”

The room around them begins and tip and tremble, and in a blink Tomas is opening his eyes with a gasp. Marcus—the real Marcus, his Marcus—is kneeling in front of him, praying intensely.

Marcus’ face floods with relief. “Tomas,” he sighs. “Tell me what you saw.”

Marcus leans in and wraps his strong hands around Tomas’ neck. And, God, he’s so warm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt [here](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com/post/176968913762/tomarcus-prompts-not-sure-if-its-any-good-but).

With Chicago not a week in their rearview, Tomas still held home closely to his heart. The demon had used his sister’s voice, followed it up with the voice of his nephew. It had slipped into Jessica just as Tomas lunged onto the bed, battering the thing with his fists until Marcus managed pry him away. His knuckles came up bloody. Marcus had to all but drag him out into the hall.

“Let me see. Stop fidgeting,” Marcus gingerly took Tomas’ hand into his palms. It was already starting to bruise.

“It’s fine.” Tomas winced at Marcus’ touch. “It’s not broken. It’s fine. We should get back in there.”

“It’s not fine.” Marcus frowned as Tomas pulled his hand away and tucked it closely against his chest. “You can’t let them get inside your head like that. We’ve been over this, Tomas.”

“I know. I know, it’s just—” Tomas sniffed, his eyes damp. There was no need for him to explain. Though Marcus had never had much of a home to speak of, he understood Tomas’ aching completely.

“Come here,” Marcus said, gripping Tomas by the sleeve, drawing him nearer. “Come on. It’s all right.”

Tomas allowed Marcus to fold him into his arms. He held onto Marcus lightly, trembling, his breathing growing ever-still as Marcus rubbed circles into his back. Tomas was warm; he made Marcus warmer.

“You’re good at this,” Marcus said against Tomas’ ear. “You know that you are. But you have to focus. Remember why we’re here.”

“Perdon. Lo siento,” Tomas mumbled against Marcus’ shoulder.

Marcus couldn’t help but smile. The thing he’d grown to love more than anything about Tomas Ortega was how prone he was to melting after losing his temper. He trembled in Marcus’ arms for another handful of seconds before pulling away. His hands lingered on Marcus’ arms. Their eyes lingered on each other.

Tomas frowned down at his swelling knuckles. “I think I need some ice.”

“And we both need coffee. Come on.” Marcus slipped an arm around Tomas’ shoulders, led him down the hallway to the kitchen.


End file.
